I have never really written a poem before. Until now. I was reading about a poetry class handling a slur a student wrote into their poem. And something came over me and I wrote this in James Dickey style (with a nod to e. e. cummings as well). It took five minutes. I don’t know if it’s any good but I like it because it comes from somewhere deep inside of me that needs to express itself. I know that sounds like literary mumbo-jumbo but I really feel this way, Maybe this is the way I get it out. I don’t know. I’m taking a chance, but here goes:
To my Boss from the guy with BPD
I need to get out of here if you do.
I think you’re a nice person, someone who means well, but I can’t abide
It’s not my problem that I may explode, others say that
But I know even if I get angry, it’s for a good reason
Even if I can’t display my anger in a socially acceptable way.
Walls, chairs, doors, myself
You don’t need a blade/to self harm
So let me not hear your words ringing in my ears as I make an excuse
I must use the restroom but really I will
Go outside and hyperventilate
How can you think that? How can you say that?
I will never know. I don’t want to know
But I need to protect myself from your words
Before your words trigger actions
So I am a ‘snowflake’ but a very angry and destructive snowflake
You cross me at your peril/although I do not want to harm
I avoid I avoid I avoid. And I hate myself for it.
Excuse me for living.
I need to keep my dignity.